Campus God (Campus)

“Punchline?”

His tongue peeks out to swipe over the silver ring, flipping it leisurely back and forth. My gaze drops to the movement as a burst of unwanted arousal blooms in the pit of my belly. Actually, the sensation has taken up residence much lower. I clench my thighs to stifle it.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” he adds, continuing to play with the metal.

Focus, Brooke!

I clear my throat and drag my gaze up to his. “I’m waiting for you to say something nasty and cut me down. You like to be a dick. Especially to me.” I pop a shoulder with far more casualness than I’m feeling. “It’s kind of your thing.”

There’s a pause as something flickers in his eyes. It can’t possibly be guilt. Or regret. That’s not in his repertoire. Crosby Rhodes doesn’t feel remorse. Certainly not where I’m concerned. The only thing this strange behavior is doing is filling me with confusion and putting me on edge.

I don’t need it.

Nor do I want it.

Tension ratchets up between us until it reaches a frenzy, and I can barely stand it. My chest constricts with the need to escape his impenetrable gaze. Even though I haven’t finished my lunch, I grab my messenger bag.

“Would you mind moving? I need to go.”

That’s not necessarily the truth, but I can’t be in his enigmatic presence for another moment, or I’ll come undone. Maybe burst at the seams. And I refuse to allow that to happen.

Especially in front of him.

10

CROSBY

Fuck.

This isn’t going the way I imagined it in my head. In fact, it’s the exact opposite.

With her bag hoisted over her shoulder, Brooke stares at me like I’m the devil incarnate come to drag her to hell.

And to her, I probably am.

It’s not like I have anyone else to blame for how she feels other than myself. Somehow, I need to right this relationship. Whether that’s possible after everything I’ve said and done over the last eighteen months remains to be seen. But I have to try, right?

Instead of rising from the bench and allowing her to flee—because she’ll take off like a bat out of hell if I do—I remain seated. There’s no way for her to get past me unless I do. The expression on her face tells me that she realizes it as well. It’s a cross between wanting to rip my head off and wanting to shrink away.

The temptation to drag her into my arms and soothe away her anxiety pounds through my blood like a steady drumbeat. It’s tempting to give in. She’s like a frightened animal that needs coaxing and a gentle touch. Instead, I keep my hands to myself. She’s liable to scream bloody murder if I do. I can see it in her eyes.

Had we never started texting, perhaps I could continue to treat her with disdain and keep her at a firm distance, but that’s no longer possible. Brooke has unwittingly shared personal details that she keeps hidden deep inside. I know about her hopes and dreams. Past demons that continue to haunt her. Fears and insecurities that keep her up at night. I’ve peeled back the layers and shared the same. There’s no way to erase it all from my brain and pretend we’re no more than acquaintances. Whether she realizes it or not, everything has shifted between us.

“Can we talk outside?” The question pops out of my mouth before I can fully think it through.

For the second time in a matter of minutes, she stares at me with a strange mixture of surprise and uncertainty. It’s like she has no idea who the hell I am.

When she remains silent, my brows rise. “Brooke?”

“There’s nothing for us to discuss,” she says through stiff lips.

I should have realized it wouldn’t be that easy. She’s nothing like the other girls on campus. She’s not going to simply roll over and spread her legs because I’ve decided to be nice. I’ve hurt her dozens of times, and now she wants nothing to do with me. Honestly, there might not be anything I can do to salvage this relationship.

I search her eyes carefully, looking for any hint of softening.

There’s none whatsoever.

As we continue to stare, she straightens her shoulders and presses her lips together until they’re nothing more than a thin, bloodless line. I glance at the couple across from us, only to see that they’re still wrapped up in each other. Good. The last thing I need is an audience.

“It’ll take less than five minutes, and then, if you want to tell me to get fucked, you can do it.”

“I don’t need to waste two seconds before telling you that,” she shoots back, heat gathering in her pale cheeks.

True enough.

I drop my voice. “Please?”

She sucks in a sharp breath before forcing it steadily out. “You’ve got three minutes.”